We all have truths in our past or present we think are better left undisclosed. I’m speaking of those that eat away at our conscience, keep us awake at two in the morning and don’t allow us to be completely honest with the people around us.
These truths haunt us because we know if they’re exposed it will make them real, and in turn, increase the number of sleepless nights we endure.
If you haven’t admitted your secret truth, I highly recommend it. I’m not talking about telling your best friend. What I’m referring to is when your co-workers ask you how everything is with a particular aspect of your life, say the real truth instead of the fantasy you’ve created for yourself.
I encourage this because I know very well how it feels to live in a morbid fantasy because I didn’t have the courage to live the real-life drama.
You all remember Brandon from the column I wrote two weeks ago. What I failed to mention in that particular excerpt of our involvement was for the past year he and I have been entangled, he has been in a relationship with another woman, and I’ve known since the first day he made it official on Facebook.
I know I summarized our 560-day long relationship in 29 words, but in order for you to get the full picture of our mess, here is a slightly longer version of the story.
Within a week of knowing Brandon I felt I had known him my whole life. Not for the fact that we instantly bared our souls to one another, but for the connection I felt with him that I hadn’t with anyone before.
Four months later our emotional entanglement had taken a toll on us, and it erupted in a hurtful exchange of words in the middle of a parking lot. We agreed whatever we were doing was incredibly unhealthy because we weren’t exclusive and were both involved with other people. Knowing in my gut it was for the best, we agreed to just be friends.
We didn’t speak after that until the first day of last fall semester. We confessed we were both at fault and agreed (but this time we apparently meant it) to be friends because that’s what was best. The following week he kissed me.
A friendship with Brandon only lasted a minute. We were never capable of being just friends. As my best friend puts it, “You two are physically incapable of not being emotionally connected to each other.”
A little more than a month after “the kiss” I asked him one afternoon via text message if he wanted to go away for the weekend. He responded with, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea since I have a girlfriend.”
My heart stopped and I screamed like a crazy person.
Brandon and I spoke the next day, and he told me he was going to stick with his decision and (get ready for this) said he didn’t want to lose me from his life and wanted to be friends.
Friends? How did he think we could be friends after he ripped my heart out, threw it on the ground and stomped on it like an Italian woman does when she makes wine?
What I should have done after he asked like a bumbling idiot if we could be friends is never speak to him again. But we know that’s not what happened because then there would have never been a need for this column.
The question I’ve continued to ask myself is why would I continue a relationship with a man knowing very well that not only did he have a girlfriend, but was in no way going to leave her for me. More importantly, how I could live with myself knowing I’m disrespecting a woman that never asked to be cheated on.
You’re probably staring at this story right now and yelling at me. But if I may say, you can’t control who you fall in love with. By the time Brandon told me he had a girlfriend, the damage had been done. I had fallen so hard that the best cardiologist in the world couldn’t fix my heart so I could stop loving him.
This has been my excuse for over a year as to why I’ve stuck around and subjected myself to the emotional torture and abuse he puts me through. “But I love him!” is what I exclaim to my friends when they shake their heads in objection.
The only way I have been able to endure these emotional shambles is to ask him to never speak of her. I wanted to be oblivious to her because then not only could I pretend she didn’t exist, but also suppress my guilt.
The fact is Brandon and I continued to chase after each other and grow closer in every way two people could. We suffered loss together, grew together, loved each other, and this all occurred even with the ever-present fact that another woman’s name appeared on his Facebook page under the phrase “In a Relationship with.”
At the end of the 560 days, all the hoping, denial and justification mean nothing because he’s not coming around.
I’ve found every excuse to justify why I’ve kept him around all this time. I’ve said everything from the fact that I fell for him before I knew about her, to “well it’s not like he’s married,” to pointing out how intense our connection is, and back to just how much I adore him.
In the core of my conscience I obviously didn’t care about his girlfriend. My love for him consumed me to the point I voluntarily continued riding the infidelity train with him and never looked out the window to see the victim left behind on the tracks.
When it’s all said and done, there shouldn’t have been any justification for what I did. Can I blame him for not caring about me enough to let me go? Of course. But aren’t I an adult, fully capable of my own decisions? Of course I am.
Being the other woman has never been an alluring position to be in. After all, you’re basically being told you don’t have the skills to be the main player, but just good enough to keep the bench warm.
